Little brother
by Gerudowolf
Summary: A small collection of short drabbles about England and Sealand. Brotherly fluff.
1. Nightmares

America was such a god boy at first. Sealand on the other hand. Sealand was a brat from the very beginning. Loud, obnoxious, rude. Nothing but a bother really. But now as he watches his little brother standing next to his bed, quivering, sobbing, ranting about nightmares, ghosts, vampires and demons; he can't even try to bring himself to yell at him. Making room for the other he allows Peter to huddle up beneath the covers with him. He pulls the boy close. Hugs him tightly. Just like Alfred, Peter will leave one day, and the loss might not feel as great this time, but he wants to hold on to him a little longer.

"England..."

Upon hearing the soft whisper he opens his eyes for a brief moment. "Yes?" he asks with concern. There's a faint blush covering the boy's cheeks as he opens his mouth to speak.

"You're crushing me, you jerk"

"Shut up and sleep, you little git!"


	2. Prisoner of War

It's not his responsibility. It's none of his business. He knows this, but when he receives the news about a German company trying to claim Sealand he worries about the lad. And so he goes to check on the former military base that believes itself to be a nation.

The boy comes running towards him. But not in tears like he expected. "I caught him! I caught him!" Peter beams and has to use both hands to prevent the oversized pirate hat he's wearing from sliding over his eyes "He tried to take prince Michael away from me! But I caught him!"

"Arthur!"

He flinches a little at the deep voice calling him and turns to look at the man tied to a kitchen chair. How Ludwig ended up like that, Arthur can not tell, but it amuses him non the less.

There's a sign around the German's neck.

PRISONER OF WAR

"Tell the damn kid to let me go" Ludwig snarls. Clearly loosing his temper.

"I can't help you, Germany" Arthur answers, chuckling softly "he's not my responsibility". Most of the time it hurts to admit. But today; today it doesn't feel all that bad.

A/N. Sealand's history is hilarious. This is based on one of the events that amused me the most.


	3. First Crush

"I hate you jerk England! I hate you!"

The words echo in his mind as he watches Peter fuss over the broken vase, carefully picking up a nearly withered lily from between the glass shards. "It's a faltered flower, Sealand!" he answers, regaining his composure "look, I'm sorry I tipped the vase but I don't see why it's necessary too cause a bloody riot!"

"Because" Peter yells, cerulean eyes close to tears "that flower is from the first time me and Latvia met. And even if he stabbed me with it it's very precious to me!"

Latvia... Precious...

Arthur notices the shade of pink on the boy's cheeks. "It had to be a boy huh?" he mutters to himself and places a hand on Peter's shoulder. Causing him to flinch slightly. "if you want to keep the flower then let's dry it and put it in a frame. That way it wont fall apart."

Peter's glare lessens and a small smile appears as he looks back down at the flower and nods slightly. Arthur is tempted to tease him, but chooses to keep quiet. Even if it's a silly crush it tells him Peter is starting to grow up.

And truth to be told he's a little proud.


	4. Birthday

September 2.

The worst birthday ever.

Peter sighs as he watches the empty seats that surround him. He sits on the table, sadly poking the untouched birthday cake with a fork.

He had expected it. That since none of the other nations acknowledges him as a real country he wouldn't get many visitors. However he had hoped that at least Latvia would come to his party. But he timid boy had only sent him a text.

_Happy Birthday, Sealand._

_I'm sorry ;o; _

_I wanted to visit you but Russia is in a very bad mood today and I can't leave my room._

_I'm sorry! I'm really, really sorry! _( ; д ;｀ )

He had texted him back. Saying it was all right. That the party was so crowded and loud he wouldn't have enjoyed it anyway. He doesn't want him to worry.

Papa Sweden had called him. But being Sweden, he didn't have much to say to him besides "H'py b'rth'y s'n" and then a few grunts now and then as Peter proceeded to talk about the amazing party he was going to have for about ten minutes.

"Amazingly boring. That's what it is" he mumbles and climbs down before proceeding to lay flat on the floor.

Then finally, there's a soft knock on his door. He perks up. Perhaps Latvia came to see him after all. Or perhaps everyone is there. Ready to yell "Surprise!". But when he opens the door the bright smile on his face slowly fades. That jerk England. Being scolded for acting like a nation is the last thing he needs right now. "What do you want?" he asks with a glare.

Arthur reaches his hand out and for a brief moment Peter fears his brother is going to smack him. But in stead he receives a soft pat on the head.

"Happy Birthday, Sealand"

Peter looks up at him in disbelief.

"You remembered?"

"Of course I remembered! And I even made scones for you so---- hey! Are you crying?"

He blinks as he realizes his eyes are running. It's not like he's crying because he's lonely or because he's happy to know that his brother cares. It has to be the thought of eating those damn scones that's making him cry. "E-England" he sobs and hugs the older nation's waist, burying his face in his shirt to hide the tears "n-obody came to my p-party!"

He lets go as Arthur kneels down next to him. Then he's pulled into a tight embrace.

"It's ok, Peter. I'm here."


	5. Growing up

He has grown tall, so damn tall. Maybe as big as that blasted git America.

Arthur's jaw drops as he stares at the young nation in front of him. His little brother... taller than him.

"What? is there something on my face?"

Why yes there is. Those eyebrows of Peter's seem to have grown impossibly big, but that is not the reason why Arthur is staring.

"What happened to you!?"

And somehow, before Peter opens his mouth even, he already knows the answer.

The earthquake...

It caused a huge land to emerge from the ocean

Sealand...

Little Sealand is gone, grown up, just like Amer-

"NOOOOOO!"

He wakes up with a scream. Drops of sweat trailing down his forehead, breath sharp and uneven. It was just a dream, just a dream he reassures himself. But he doesn't calm down, not until he has stepped into his slippers and ran upstairs to the room of that little nation he likes to pretend doesn't exists.

Peter is sound asleep. Soft murmurs about independency and awesome and jerks leaving his parted lips. He's safe, but more importantly he's still small. Still a child. Still his little brother.

Arthur quietly moves over to the boy's bed and lightly caresses his cheek. He can't get emotionally attached, because then it will happen again, but it seems like it's already too late. He cried when America left, he'll cry when Sealand leaves. "Don't ever grow up" he whispers and kisses Peter's forehead "promise me you'll never grow up"

Peter doesn't promise, and so that dreadful dream wont leave him, but he still dares to hope. If he keeps being a jerk and prevents Sealand from winning the battle for independence, then he might not lose this brother.


	6. Little Guardian

I'm sorry it keeps getting more angsty than fluff. I just love bittersweet moments... I'm such a fag.

Arthur wasn't depressed, nor was he an alcoholic. Really. Sometimes the house just felt too empty and he'd try to cheer up. But drinking alone never brought a smile to his lips. It only left him unable to hold back the tears that gathered up whenever he was reminded of that one day. When his most precious person left him.

"America you bastard" he groaned, the glass of rum slipping from his hand and leaving stains on the carpet. Good thing it had been nearly emptied, but honestly he couldn't care less. His head was starting to ache from the alcohol, or perhaps it was from the pathetic sobbing. He wanted to sleep; get off the couch and slink to his room. But his body wouldn't move. He was too tired. However he was soon forced to get up. The doorbell rang, not just once, but repeatedly seeing as he ignored the first five times. He slowly sat up and tried to rub away the wetness on his cheeks before shuffling towards the door. His legs felt weak like on a newborn calf and it didn't take more than a few steps before he stumbled forward. He ended up sprawled on the floor, without enough strength left to get back up, but it didn't matter. He shouldn't let anyone see him like this anyway. The tears began streaming down his cheeks once more. He was a bloody mess.

Arthur didn't budge when he heard the door open. His heart seemed to skip a beat as light steps moved towards him before a small hand was placed on his shoulder. However that little joy quickly faded when he remembered that America's steps were heavy now, and his hands were big and rough.

"You jerk!" a familiar voice grumbled, a young island once known as Roughs Tower "I told you I'd come visit today and you greet me like this!?"

"Huh?"

Arthur looked up at the kid and frowned in confusion. He couldn't recall it. Thinking back he was able to remember something about a phone call earlier that week. Nothing about planning to visit, but Peter talked fast, or perhaps he wasn't even trying to pay attention.

"I'm sorry Peter..."

"Sealand! Don't address me like I was a mere human!"

"Sealand" Arthur sighed and hid his face again "I'm not well. You'll have to come back some other day-Ow!". He cringed when the younger one smacked the back of his head. "Bloody hell! What are you-" he started, but paused when he glanced up and saw Peter glaring at him. Oh he had seen him angry before. The brat would pout, yell, frown or bawl, but never like this, a glare so intense and filled with disappointment it made him feel like he was the one being a child.

"You think I'm gonna leave you alone when you're like this?"

He almost laughed when the kid tried to pull him up. Peter always overestimated his own strength. Eventually he got up on his own and shuffled back to the couch, laying down with his face against a cushion. "I'll be fine. Don't cause a goddamn ruckus" he groaned, wanting to be left alone.

"You were crying." Peter stated.

"It's none of your business!"

"It's 'cause of America right? You always talk about him when you drink!"

Arthur didn't reply, too tired to argue. Despite his odd sense of logic the boy wasn't easy to fool.

"I'm not like that bastard you know" Peter said quietly. Arthur felt a little puzzled. He never knew his little brother could be soft-spoken. Always so loud and careless. Only 12 and already more rude than America had ever been. He would obviously grow up to be the same. No. Worse. He had never seen that the kid could be kind and caring. When Sealand ran to him with a smile on his face he would only hear the word jerk and be sure that he had lost the respect of another one of his brothers.

"I'm gonna be independent too," Peter continues "but I'll still rely on you and stuff... brothers should support each other! Besides you'd be lonely if I never came to visit you right?"

Arthur could have said a lot of things to hurt the child's feelings. And most of the time he would have, because why should he show an ungrateful brat affection. However his answer was simple.

"Yeah."


End file.
